


Hold Onto These Good Things

by kangelique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Best Friends, Character Death, College, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: Emma Swan abandoned the little town called Storybrooke five years ago-and with it, all of her friends and what could have possibly been something more with Killian Jones. Now after receiving a call from Mary Margaret asking her to attend a Thanksgiving dinner, Emma is forced to go down memory lane and relieve all the good and the bad when she chooses to go and ends up stranded on the side of the road and face to face with Killian Jones. Could this be their second chance at love?





	Hold Onto These Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually supposed to be a one shot for Thanksgiving but it got kind of long and developed a mind of its own and just sort of went down another path and I couldn't finish it on time for Thanksgiving anyway, but I really like the outcome...

" _Oh, no, no, NO!"_ Emma growled, smacking the steering wheel again and again in frustation as the engine sputtered for a second, throwing her into an abrupt stop, and then flicked back to life again only to move up a few more inches and then stop completely. "Seriously?!" she hit the wheel again, with a force that made the whole car tremble, and in return it released a loud  _HONK!_   that startled her and effectively made her hit her head against the ceiling with a hard  _THUMP!_ "Great," she muttered. "Just great."  _maybe it'll rearrange my brain cells now and give me an idea as to how to get back home without a car._

She thought that over,  _Home,_ and then corrected it because that lonely, empty apartment in Boston overlooking the city lights wasn't home.  _As good a view_ it provided, it wasn't home. Frankly, Emma wasn't sure where she was headed towards (or WAS headed towards because newsflash, God hates her and her car just broke down) right now was any home either. If any place even was.

"Ugh, damn you, Mary Margaret," she closed her eyes and let her hands drop from the steering wheel, defeatedly slapping her thighs as her whole body slumped down, and she just buried her face in her hands, wondering what in the hell had convinced her to come when she had managed not to for a good five years now--a good, five  _sad_ years.

 

* * *

_At first she thought it was the fire alarm, and Emma jumped out of bed, clutching onto a pillow and almost tripping over the sheets in her haste as she threw the door to her room open and rushed down the hall barefoot_ , oh my god, oh my god, oh my god _, skidding to a stop in her kitchen and almost falling on her face when one of her feet slipped against a tile that looked glossy and...weird (probably some liquid she forgot to clean up last night or hair product maybe?) and she frantically whipped her head to the side back and forth, anxiously searching for the evidence of her carelessness while also trying to go over every last one of her sins that she and this building were about to burn alive for when...Emma sniffed and it still smelled of the same balmy air that at least told her the heaters were working even though she was sweating pools right now, and she really wanted to complain to the manager how unnatural it was because a human being should not be sweating this bad in the dead of Autumn. It was Autumn and it felt like goddamn Florida!_

_But well, eventually Ms.Mills would complain about the suffocation and then they would all have normal, warm room temperatures that were more bearable and suited for the coming winter. At least the lady was good for something other than giving Emma the side-eye and occasionally dropping some retort whenever they unfortunately happened to cross paths-which was, TOO MANY TIMES in a week to not make Emma want to stick out her foot and let her trip (not that she'd ever tried *cough*)_

_Emma practically sagged in relief against the stool when she realized nothing was actually burning, but the consistent ringing of what- she now noted- was her phone still continued to awkwardly be the only noise in her apartment besides her breathing- not the sound of children, or family, or friends, or_ anyone,  _besides herself in such a spacious place. With a long suffering groan and a million mental curses being shot towards whoever was on the other end of that line, Emma pushed away from the counter and made her way back to her room still holding the pillow to her chest like a girl held her doll, half bumping into walls in her daze because if anyone ever payed attention they would know that Emma did not exist on Saturdays and most certainly DID NOT  function well unless there was three cups of coffee in her system first. Well, she did exist MOST days, but Saturdays were the double, triple, 'I do not want to deal with humans' type of day that she followed like a saint followed all the ten commandments. And maybe it was an exaggeration to say that if there was an earthquake , she would still run to the coffee maker and even add some extra sugar because, dedication man._

_Emma snatched the annoying little piece of crap off the floor and then let herself fall face first onto the bed, attractively plopping the way all the girls in those cliche movies did that she thought were stupid but still watched anyway, knowing that they obviously went through it a thousand times before getting it JUST. RIGHT. Yeah, well her life wasn't a movie and whoever was still calling definitely had the guts if they thought calling her on a Saturday morning wasn't about to get him/her a pissed off response that would wipe away anyone's idea that she was nice and sweet._

Idiots,  _she thought. They were so very wrong if they thought that any part of her was nice or sweet; she could scarcely remember that girl herself, most days she wondered what it would be like if she wasn't so marred by pain and disappointments and abandonment. Emma could only fathom, she supposed. There was no changing who she was._

_And yet her heart skipped a bittersweet, frightful rhythm when she was whose name it was on the caller ID, eyes popping open and immediately sitting up in surprise. "Mary Margaret?!" she whispered, looking down at the screen in odd longing and thumb hovering over the green button in between an intense should I or should I not answer the friend who I haven't spoken to in years. 'Friend' was probably a loose term by now. Correction: IT WAS. Distance had made sure of that-- a distance that Emma had firmly applied when she had packed her bags one night and left the little town behind without a second glance back to what few friends she had. "What do I do, what do I do, what do I do," she panicked, seriously considering flinging her phone at the window and getting a replacement along with repairing the glass later if it meant it would stop the assault of painful memories that had just arisen and had her suddenly on the brink of tears, remembering the cold, dead body in her arms._

she doesn't deserve this from you,  _a little voice inside her whispered, and she knew that voice was right (her voice obviously; she wasn't crazy like that). Emma had been unfair. So quickly pressing the green button before she could change her mind , Emma brought the phone up to her ear and breathed out a shaky,  "Hello?"_

_"Emma, hi! It's me, Mary Margaret!" she chirped through the line, and Emma could swear it was like no years, no distance, no walls, and not even herself had kept them from staying in touch by the way she greeted her with such bubbly happiness and excitement like they were best friends when...once upon a time they had been._

_It took her a moment to respond, her head pounding and her thoughts mixing together in a single tangle of sadness and guilt. "Um, yeah, I know," she said stupidly, swallowing past the lump in her throat and trying to stop her vision from becoming blurry. "Uh, um, I'm just surprised, I wasn't expecting you to call or...I don't know," Emma closed her eyes, hating herself, hating how hard it was and wishing with all her might that she just hadn't answered at all. As cruel as it was to wish that, it was easier. Safer_

_"I know," Mary Margaret sighed. "I know its been a while, Emma-"_

Years,  _Emma corrected. 'While' couldn't even begin to cover it._

_"- but we're still here for you," Mary Margaret continued, completely unaware of Emma's mental interruption. The words did something to Emma's heart, seizing it and tightening it around a truth that she wanted to say but never did. Not even out loud to herself in the dark. "And look, I know we haven't talked in a really long time, and this was truly a long shot on my part since I wasn't even sure that you would answer the phone," Emma almost laughed because yeah, Mary Margaret's hope was still there, and she was happy to at least know that hadn't changed. "but I've missed you. We all have. David and I, and Ruby too. Belle also came back, and just...can you come visit? At least for a day? Please?"_

_"Mary Margaret," Emma started, reading to give some long, not thought of well, speech about why she couldn't, but then found her head_ blank _without any reason to give because the thought of Ruby, Belle, Mary Margaret, David, AND Elsa all together with her again clouded any good fake explanation to refuse._

_"Please, Emma," she pleaded with evident hope, and Emma grit her teeth, haunted by the fear of rejection in her voice that was also clear. "Just come for a day. David and I are hosting a Thanksgiving dinner at Granny's for all of us and well, we just want you to be there too. I know its been hard after...what happened that night. I get why you had to leave, and I'm not calling to remind you of that or anything else that happened in the past, I just--WE, want you to come. We don't hate you for pulling away, Emma, you need to know that, you need to at least be sure of that after all these years."_

_"Dammit, Mary Margaret," Emma wiped at her eyes irritably, unwilling to have herself break down and specially over a phone call when she knew she would still try to comfort her._

_"Will you come?"_

_Emma was silent for a long time-so long that she wasn't even sure if Mary Margaret was still on the line when she quietly said, "Okay, yeah, I'll go."_

_She expected a whoop or ear-splitting scream, but all Mary Margaret said was a quiet, "I'm glad, Emma," that meant so much more than any whoop or ear-splitting scream could have meant. It was an acceptance. Acceptance that perhaps Emma didn't deserve after so many years of ignoring someone who had always been there for her, even now, she still was. Even now Mary Margaret still got it, and it only succeeded in making her miss her harder and increasing her always looming guilt. "You remember the way back?" Mary Margaret's voice broke through her train of thought._

_"I never forgot," Emma whispered long after the call had ended._

* * *

 

 

So that's how Emma Swan now found herself stranded on the side of the road with a broken down car that had also given up on her the same way many other men had also given up on her throughout the 23 years of her life that was her beautiful existence. Okay. Maybe it wasn't wise to bring men into the equation.  _Hell,_ to an entirely different circumstance. But she couldn't help feeling bitter right now--and regretful, completely and utterly regretful for thinking she was brave enough to come back when she'd already tried so many times before in the past, only to break down in tears halfway and turn back toward an empty apartment with a desperation that anyone could question her damn right of mind. Mary Margaret and  _no one,_ but Emma's soul was aware of her attempts to try and come back to the place she'd escaped from. It was funny, how small a town it was and yet it wasn't the perimeter and constant familiarity that had made her jump into her old beat-up yellow bug and zoom away. No, that's exactly what would have helped her stay, if only her mind hadn't been made up that night and hadn't  _stayed_ made up year after year, Emma would have been able to return and seek comfort in her friends instead of avoiding her problems and losing herself in a big city instead. The onslaught of memories had always kept her at a halt whenever she was close to a return, but now it seemed God was officially done with her crap, and the devil seemed to have joined forces with mother nature to give her the middle finger because not only was her car at an ACTUAL halt right now unless she got her sorry ass up and went to do something about it, but it was also cold.

Although Emma had always considered autumn as one of her favorite seasons, right now her red jacket wasn't doing her any favors and with the car completely dead, no nice warm air was coming through those heaters either to bring her some consolation. Gradually her body had begun to notice the shift in temperature and with it, her leg had begun jumping up and down, teeth gritted, and arms crossed at her chest to secure any heat as possible as she went over every decent option she had, slowly beginning to have sympathy for whomever idiot chose to live in the Arctic, NOT EVEN WANTING TO IMAGINE HOW-

Someone tapped her window and Emma jumped  _murderer! murderer! ,_ effectively hitting her head against the ceiling again as she fumbled to grasp whatever thing she could use as a weapon with wide eyes, and of course what came back in her hand was her phone that been lying useless in the passenger seat. Yeah...no. She had just entered her payment a few days ago and money was money. And she still hadn't finished watching 'Once Upon a Time' on Netflix. Rather die than never make it to the episode where the princess finally confesses her feelings to the hot pirate and puts Emma out of her misery. People were so complicated.

_Yeah, you're one to talk-_

The murderer tapped her window again and Emma turned her head in his direction this time. Wait. Emma squinted. She leaned back in her seat. Yep. It was a him.

She had to take a deep breath. She really didn't want to do this. The last thing she wanted to do was ask for a stranger's help--a stranger that was still patiently waiting outside with his hands dug into his coat pockets for her to make up her mind and okay, he just gave her a reassuring smile, not a sinister one, maybe God was finally having pity on her because, well God knew she needed someone at least close to friendly to help get her out of this mess. Emma didn't exactly feel fond of walking the miles and miles (that she hadn't even been keeping track of) and then the  _woods_ still left to get to Storybrooke. She COULD also call Mary Margaret and maybe her and David would come pick her up, of course that would take hours and Emma was stubborn enough to stick it through, but the fact was that she was not  _ready_ to see Mary Margaret or David or anybody. Perhaps this stranger was a blessing in disguise, and she should really take the damn blessing before it literally started to walk away and leave her here with no food, no warmth, and...Oh, her battery was at ten percent now.  _Yeah,_ Emma sighed,  _I really need to get out now._

He didn't even seem to be evil or anything weird, but she hadn't gotten a good look at his face yet and every single scary movie that she'd watched and regretted watching was playing through her head in all the ways this could go wrong and she'd end up dead before she even had one last grill cheese from Granny's, as she grasped the door handle and pushed the door open with a little more force than was necessary and almost stumbled onto the gravel because she'd forgotten that her legs had fallen asleep in the middle of her wallowing, so now she was probably the weird one with all her contorting against the pinches shooting up her legs.

A hand reached out to steady her, "Are you alright, love?"

Emma froze. Unattractive twitching and all, she froze.

_Are you alright, love,_ her own voice echoed and she wished she would have just stayed in the car instead of being reasonable. She wished she would have just had the guts to call Mary Margaret and face her past instead of having to face  _this_ with him, right now, and in the middle of nowhere, because between him and her friends, it was  _him_ who had made her want to run away the most.

"Excuse me, miss, you seem to be a bit..." he trailed off and Emma could practically hear the recognition in the silence, could practically  _feel_ as it dawned on him just whose arm his hand was on, just who he was helping keep up.

A rock. A rock, a rock, she needed a rock to go hide under, but who was she kidding? _He_ had been her rock, even before she left.  _He_ had been the one who she always went to go hide in when the world felt like too much, except it had been in his arms and that had been the best and worse thing. Emma knew, would know, that voice anywhere, and as much as she wanted to be wrong, she wasn't. One didn't just forget what they'd had-and how she'd destroyed it- in only five years. Maybe it was impossible to forget, no better than her to agree when she'd been trying to for all five damn years of her absence.

"Emma," he breathed and took a step back, his hand dropping from her arm and looking momentarily stung, wide eyes meeting hers and lips parted as if he was about to say something, anything other than her name, but the words were stuck in his throat much like her heart had just skipped a beat as the sight of him in front of her brought on so many memories that blurred her vision, remembering how she had once raked her fingers through his hair, lips melting into his as he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her tightly to his chest like he never planned to let go, and she had responded by clinging to him harder and needing no barrier of layers between them as they both fell onto the bed, him hovering above her, and then suddenly that passion had died down to something much slower, much sweeter, butterfly fingertips gliding along her cheek, tickling her skin, smiles against mouths, cupping his face and then those three loaded words almost said.

Almost.

"Killian," that squeak in her voice wasn't hers and Emma cleared her throat to get rid of the eighteen year old girl that had surfaced up. He had always been able to do that. Make her feel younger, make her feel braver, make her feel freer. And she sure as hell didn't want her breathlessness giving her away in what her mind had been thinking about at the sight of Killian Jones, real and in front of her. Emma thought she had put that eighteen year old girl behind her, but one look at HIM!!! was enough to make her regret running away in the first place. It made her angry. She didn't need more regrets, she needed more reasons to go away, but nothing measured up, nothing EVER seemed to measure up because the truth was they understood her, and they loved her, and no matter how many times she ran, her friends would forgive her and welcome her back with open arms, and she just goddamn wanted a reason!

"Killian," Emma tried again and this time she was relieved to hear her voice sound more composed. He blinked, still looking shocked, and Emma decided that she wanted to get as far away from the eighteen year old girl as possible--maybe pelt her with a stone or two for reacting this way to him and making her feel like a whole zoo had just exploded in her stomach rather than a few butterflies that she could easily try to ignore. But you couldn't ignore a rhino right?--and if that meant being tough and walls up then Emma would have to be that because she couldn't be the Emma that had cried on his shoulder and opened up to her that night he took her stargazing and had just been... _vulnerable._

"How are you here right now, Swan? Why are you here? Were you on your way to Storybrooke, are you perhaps going to...?" there was hope in his eyes and Emma had to look away to keep herself from saying something that would make the hope burn brighter and uncover her own hope in the process.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was on my way to Storybrooke cause Mary Margaret called and you know something about Thanksgiving and inviting me for it," Emma shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant and unaffected when she was TOTALLY affected and a mess of cruel, tangled up emotions and just... _walls, Emma._ "So my car kinda broke down and I got stranded on the road and I sort of thought you were a murderer before I realized it was you,  _you,_ and not some guy with a chainsaw about to drag me into the woods and store my body parts," she was rambling by now but to her surprise, Killian chuckled.

"Well I can assure you, Swan, I'm no chainsaw murderer man, although I can be quite handy with that tool when it comes to cutting down trees, but," he took a step closer and quirked an eyebrow. "now you've revealed all the scary movies you've watched that have no doubt frightened you to your wits and had a partake in imagining that creative little scenario in your head in which I would  _dare_ cut you up," Killian shook his head, grinned. "I think you'd very much cut me up first before I was able to execute my plan and the background music started hinting at your death."

Emma rolled her eyes and crossed her eyes defensively, "It's not like you know what goes on in my head, Killian."

"You're right," he conceded but then smirked. "Other than screaming into the popcorn bowl and demanding for all the lights to be turned on, your actions gave nothing away," he teased.

Her actions gave everything away and they could probably spend a whole hour talking about how her curling up into him on the couch and hiding her face in his neck was a huge giveaway the same way that he used to murmur in her ear  _it passed, Swan, it passed._ Both their actions gave everything away. They had always been screwed.

"So what are you doing here?" Emma deterred. It felt too much like before, and she didn't want him to continue teasing her like they were still the friends they had once been.

Killian scratched behind his ear, "I decided to take a late night stroll and I was on my way back to my cabin when I happened to come upon a familiar yellow bug."

"You got a cabin?" Emma asked with surprise. "You moved out of Storybrooke?" she was slightly unconvinced, but he didn't seem to be lying. But at the same time she could believe it because they had always thought they would stay in their little old town forever and then look at her, she had ended up moving to Boston. A city. Emma had escaped to a whole city. Yeah, she couldn't question the cabin so much. In fact, it sounded nice and comfortable.

"Aye. I did after..." he scratched behind his ear again and refused to meet her gaze.

"I get it," Emma told him quietly and involuntarily shivered--something that did not go unnoticed by him.

"I offer this in the most gentleman of requests, love, but would you like to come to my cabin for some warmth and hot cocoa with cinnamon? I'm no mechanic but it appears your car battery has died, and I know it might not be your favorite option but the weather will only continue to drop, and we're actually quite a few miles away from Storybrooke so any help could take hours to get here," he met her eyes then. "I'd rather have you safe and sound, Swan, rather than running the risk of accumulating a cold or freezing to death while you wait. Of course the choice is yours, but perhaps take your health into consideration?"

"Oh, but my car," Emma hesitated, biting her lip. Her hesitation was due to so much more deeper and painful things that surpassed her ancient bug, and she knew that he could see it on her face. The fear. The hurt. But she couldn't bring herself to mask it because in this moment Emma WANTED him to understand and WANTED his forgiveness as much as she silently continued wanting the forgiveness of her friends and the town that had once been home before it became like ashes that suffocated her lungs and made it hard to live.

"We can for help once you're warmed up."

It was a reasonable suggestion. Emma could also tell that she wasn't the only one freezing away--nor autumn or winter had ever been his favorite times of the year--and at least one of them should be able to be put out of this misery. This was such a cruel twist of fate because NOT ONCE in all the times she'd tried to come back had she bumped into him and now suddenly it was like she was bumping into the whole town! If it was like this with one person then Emma could only imagine how it would be like when she finally saw everyone.

"Or if it makes you more comfortable I could give a quick call to Mary Mar-"

"NO!"

Emma turned away from him, cheeks blushing furiously in embarrassment for sounding so panicked and startling him while he was in the process of taking out his phone. His brow furrowed and even in the dark she could see the concern but he didn't say anything. Emma licked her lips, struggling to find something to say that wouldn't spill out the pieces of her heart right there at his feet. "It's just..." she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm not ready yet."

Killian understood the meaning in her words. The fact that she was standing in front of him now was a miracle in itself but it didn't mean that she was quite ready to be here,  _here,_ and he nodded slowly, crossing some of the distance between them. Emma faintly wondered how it would be like if she met him halfway--after all, she had once crossed the distance between them too. "Do you trust me, Emma?"

It wasn't the halfway that they were both probably hoping for but she looked firmly into his eyes and said, "Of course I trust you." it was so damn loaded, she was practically handing him a gun.

"Then we best be on our way, Swan," he smiled reassuringly, and it was the smile that she had always leaned on when the world seemed to be falling apart, but in her memories and like a ghost, he would never fail to wipe away her tears and tuck her into his side until she felt strong enough to stand on her own again.

Emma sighed,  _Damn you, Killian Jones._ "Yeah, we should."  _and damn me too,_ she thought as she took the key from the ignition and slammed the car door shut.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
